


Back to the Start

by Writcraft



Series: First Love [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Background Slash, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 09:33:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7527526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wakes from a nightmare to find Draco there despite the fact they’re not supposed to be together anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back to the Start

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to the Scorpius POV Albus/Scorpius fic [Crush](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7051861). It probably makes more sense in the context of that fic but this can also be read as a standalone.

The flames catch the edge of his robes and Harry tries to pull up, up up. Thin fingers clutch his waist, holding firm. The fire sends him reeling and the broom spins into freefall until the hands on Harry’s waist slip a fraction.

“Take my hand. Come on, Malfoy.” Harry stretches out to touch Malfoy’s hand, just at the tip of his fingers. Adrenaline pumps through his veins and the slightest touch sends sparks through his body. Malfoy’s eyes meet his. Storm clouds on a summer evening. Slate grey, wide and fearful.

“I…can’t.”

The voice isn’t like anything Harry remembers from Malfoy. It’s reed thin, choked out off the back of a sob. Their fingers touch and grasp uselessly as Malfoy tumbles towards the ground. Flames lick at his body and he screams. It’s loud enough to shatter the sky. Harry’s breath leaves him in a rush and he pushes down, the flames hot against his skin.

Fiendfyre. It’s persistent and merciless. “Draco!” Harry can’t even shout properly, his lungs filling with smoke and ash. The smell of burning flesh surrounds him and the smoke is thick enough that when his broom twists up he can no longer see the stars.

_Remember when the stars went out?_

“I have to find him.”

“No, Harry. You can’t, he’s-”

Gone. 

Helter skelter, turning through the air and breathing in flames. There’s laughter and it hurts. It hurts like fire through his veins, bleach against his bones. It makes him want to scream but all he can manage is a whimper of _Draco, Draco_ and a hopeless, desperate prayer that the fire won’t swallow them whole.

 _Dad_.

There’s a voice in the background, persistent and shaking Harry from his dreams. It’s a voice that doesn’t exist yet. It’s another hopeless dream of a life that could have been.

Harry wets his lips, his throat ragged from shouting Draco’s name. He blinks and it’s dark. It’s cool wall against perspiring flesh. He wipes his hand over his face and shakes until he feels it in his bones. He can still smell the fire. Still hear the screams. He comes face to face with his son, worried and desperate.

“Dad?”

Do you know how Fiendfyre smells when it burns? Harry mumbles it, half his words tripping from his lips and lost in the still room. The hand on his shoulder shakes again and he’s back there, away from the fire at last.

“ _Dad_.” 

“Yeah…I’m…here.” Is he, though? Harry’s lips are salty with tears, chapped and dry. He swallows and it’s like his airways don’t want to let him breathe anymore, pulsing in his throat. Closing when he tries to catch a breath. He mustn’t panic. He can’t. They’ll _Avada Kedavra_ him if he panics – lightning bolt green and laughing hard enough to make his scar burn.

“Is he dead?” Harry manages to speak at last, rubbing his forehead as the ache travels from his head to his neck and down.

“No, dad. No one’s dead. Jesus, Scorpius. Hurry the fuck _up_.”

“I am, he’s…” The voice is familiar and not. It’s so close, but something’s off.

“Potter. Potter.” Crisp enunciation. A voice as cool as the wall against Harry’s back. Slim fingers, sliding against his own.

“Malfoy?” Harry can hardly believe it. He squeezes tight, just to be sure. “It’s…a bad dream.” Because that’s all it is. He’s blinking up at Draco. _Draco_ who’s alive and giving Harry that look of fond exasperation which makes Harry’s heart skip and stutter inside his chest. 

“I know, darling.” Draco’s fingers are cool against Harry’s skin, brushing his hair from his forehead. “I know.”

“I missed you.” God, Harry’s missed him. He’s leaving the fire behind now and the dull ache in his heart returns as it begins to _pitter pat_ at a regular pace. He presses forward towards Draco’s fingers, turning his face as they catch his cheek and his jaw. Draco’s thumb brushes Harry’s lip and then he’s wrapping Harry in a hug that’s better than the warmest blanket. His voice is hot and damp against Harry’s neck.

“Missed you too.” He half lifts Harry, half tugs him upright and keeps him close. “Come to bed.”

“Will you come too?” Harry can’t take his eyes off Draco. Can’t quite believe he’s real. Draco’s eyes flicker somewhere Harry isn’t and then he nods, his voice firm.

“Obviously.” Draco brushes his lips to Harry’s ear. “I’ll go wherever you go. Even if it involves fucking rainbows.”

Harry’s laugh leaves him unexpectedly, heart full of something which makes his chest tight enough to burst. The rainbows. He remembers those. He lived, after all. They both did. Sometimes Harry can’t always remember that – not when he’s trapped in the dreams that grip him hard enough to leave bruises on his brain. “I just had to fight for it.” 

There were days when Harry didn’t remember what he was fighting for anymore. There are still those nights when he has to fight all over again and more often than not, those are battles he never wins.

“Of course you did.” Draco’s lips meet Harry’s and he tastes just like he always has. His lips are firm and the kiss deep, his mouth tasting like that peppermint stuff he uses to clean his teeth. It’s delicious and it makes every part of Harry ache, his body zinging with small sparks of pleasure which pull him out of the fire and into the glorious moment when Draco’s in his arms again and everybody _lives_.

Draco slides a hand into Harry’s hair, his other hand stroking down Harry’s spine. It makes Harry shiver and he murmurs Draco’s name against his lips until he can feel the warmth of his own smile as Draco pulls away.

“You’re here.” Harry breathes it out in such slow syllables he’s not even sure Draco hears, until Draco’s fingers clasp tightly with his own. 

“I am. Let’s go to bed.” Draco looks away from Harry for the briefest moment then he’s back again, staring at Harry as if he’s seeing him for the first time. He whispers in Harry’s ear, voice fractured and rough. “ _Harry_.”

Draco’s body’s cool and his clothes crisp cotton fresh. His fingers ghost over Harry’s cheek and he thumbs at Harry’s lip, making him look at Draco until nothing stands between them but air and a lifetime of memories. There he goes again, taking Harry back to Hogwarts where the spires stretch into the blackened night and lazy kisses flutter against Harry’s lips.

“Yeah.” Harry still feels fuzzy and uncoordinated, his head caught up in dreams of the war he tries to forget. “Bed.”

*

“Come back to me.” Draco’s on Harry when the door closes, his hands sliding over Harry’s arms which shiver and shake at the touch. “Wherever you were. Don’t stay there.”

“There was fire. You fell. I couldn’t…” The scent of burning flesh catches Harry’s nostrils and his breath hitches. “I couldn’t save you.”

“But you did.” Draco gives Harry a look. “Idiot.”

Harry laughs at that, his breath leaving him in a rush. “For saving your life?”

“Sometimes I’m not sure I deserved it.” Draco steps away from Harry and makes the bed. He’s always been fastidious about a well-made bed. His shoulders are tense and when he sits, his face drawn. He bends to unlace his boots and Harry rubs his hand over his forehead, watching him.

“What time is it?”

“Late.” Draco lifts his head. There’s a small smile on his lips but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Back now?”

“Nearly.” Harry breathes out again and yes, he is. He’s with Draco. They’re in his small room and a pair of familiar boots sit at the foot of his bed again. Al and Scorpius found him. Shit. “Al, is he okay?”

“Fine.” Draco waves his hand. He frowns when he notices Harry’s hesitation. “He’s _fine_. Don’t worry, Potter. Scorpius is with him. They were the ones that called me.”

Harry winces, the memory of his last conversation with Draco now crisp and clear. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get you up. Did you have to Floo here?”

“I did.” Draco starts to unbutton his shirt. He’s staying, then. Good. “I wasn’t asleep.” Draco shrugs, his toes curling against the carpet. Every bit of Draco is sharp angles and bones. “I was reading.”

“Anything good?” It’s strange, talking like this with too much space between them. Harry sits next to Draco, shifting close enough that their shoulders touch.

Draco snorts and his breathing wavers. “A Muggle paper on derivatives.”

Harry pulls a face and he nudges Draco. “Liar.”

“Yes.” Draco nudges Harry back and he rubs his hands on his knees. He’s still in his trousers, his shirt now fully unbuttoned. The way the moon filters through the half open curtains makes Draco’s skin look almost translucent. Harry brushes his fingers against the exposed line of Draco’s neck. He’s always been gorgeous in the moonlight, or at least he always has been to Harry.

“I really did miss you, Malfoy.” Harry swallows, watching Draco tip his head to the side to let Harry’s fingers slide along his throat. Harry sighs with relief at the tacit acceptance. It took them so long to get used to finding their way with one another again. He’s always careful with Draco these days and he doesn’t want to push. They’re careful with each other. They have to be.

“Of course you did.” Draco’s voice is low and rough but he still manages to sound haughty. He turns to face Harry and his eyes flicker with something Harry can’t quite decipher. 

“The dreams when I can’t save you, they’re always the worst.” Harry brushes his fingers through Draco’s hair. It’s soft to the touch. He can’t seem to stop touching Draco, almost as if he needs to check he’s really here. Despite the fact he’s now firmly back in the present he can’t stop nightmares from the past from insinuating themselves in the darkest parts of his mind. There was a time when he didn’t think he’d find someone else who knew what it felt like to break from the inside out.

“Daft prick.” Draco rolls his eyes but there’s no anger in his tone. He licks his lips, leaving them slick and shining in the light from the moon. He glances at Harry and pulls off his shirt until his chest is bare, familiar scars stretching down his back and disappearing into his jeans. He breathes, like it hurts. “I think we can do this. He’ll be okay.”

“Scorpius?” Harry’s heart skips and he trails his fingers idly along the rough skin on Draco’s back. “I’m not sure I want to do this without you.”

“Live?” Draco’s look is sharp, his tone clipped. “You’ll always live, Potter. It’s who you are. You’ll fight and put yourself in danger constantly. You’ll drape yourself in rainbows. I’m not sure you could do anything else. Malfoys give up. We’re the ones that run.”

“No.” Harry shakes his head, leaning into Draco again. It’s been so long, or it feels like it has been. “You come back.”

“Can’t keep me away.” Draco meets Harry’s gaze head on and he presses forward until their lips connect.

It’s blissful, kissing Draco in the moonlight. It’s like those nights when the turrets stretched tall into the sky and they found themselves space in the shadows to kiss, touch and pretend there wasn’t a war to fight anymore. That was before Azkaban. Before King’s Cross and the bodies lining the Great Hall. It was back in the days when it was _Potter_ and _Malfoy_ and they’d kiss each other hard enough to hurt.

“You’re staying, then?” Harry has to be sure and Draco looks pleased, just for a fleeting moment as if Harry’s pleasure is unexpected. They’re both so daft sometimes, Harry has to kiss Draco again just to let him know. He whispers against Draco’s lips, “I want you to.”

“Well, obviously.” Draco’s scornful and it’s fucking perfect. He’s back to being _Draco Malfoy_ \- the one with the expectations and condemnations of the wizarding world resting on his shoulders. He gives Harry a look and he shifts back on the bed. “Well?”

“Yeah.” Harry laughs and pulls his t-shirt off. It’s a ratty grey thing with a famous Muggle band on the front. The armpits are damp with sweat from a nightmare he doesn’t want to relive again. “Malfoy?”

“What?” Draco’s eyebrow arches and he contemplates Harry. He’s glorious half-naked and lounging on Harry’s sheets like he owns the place. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?” Harry brushes his hair back and Draco’s eyes darken as Harry moves over his body. God, he wants to touch Draco everywhere. He puts his palm on the crotch of Draco’s trousers and lets out a sigh when he feels Draco already hard and eager. “I don’t have a look.”

“You do.” Draco gives Harry an honest to goodness smirk and it makes Harry’s laughter bubble from deep within his chest. “You look like you want to be fucked.” Draco shifts so Harry’s beneath him and he whispers against his lips. “You look like you think I’m going to save you.”

Harry does laugh this time and he rolls Draco back again until he’s staring into his eyes, grinding against him to show Draco just how hard he is – just how much he wants this. “Is that what you’re doing? Saving me? Funny, Malfoy. I thought you just came here because you’re horny.”

Draco _humphs_. Really, they both just saved each other not that either of them will say it out loud. There’s too much history, too many soft kisses it took them too long to acknowledge and too many hard ones that let them pretend. There were too many nights under a dark Hogwarts sky. Harry can’t even remember a time when he wasn’t kissing Draco and pretending it didn’t mean _I need you_.

“I’m not that horny.” Draco licks his lips, watching Harry. His smile tilts sideways and he puts his hands behind his head. “You’re not that special, Potter.”

“ _Liar_ ,” Harry says again and he’s sure they both know he’s right.

It’s easier, after that. They don’t talk and Harry moves down Draco’s body, his mouth on Draco’s prick. He takes it into the back of his throat, relaxing around the slim length of him. He slides down until Draco’s tugging his hair and making all the right noises. They could be in a long abandoned classroom again, with Draco’s hands tangled in Harry’s hair. They could be next to the Great Lake with Draco pulling Harry up for a long, slow kiss under the stars. Draco’s hands pull at Harry’s hair, urging him up even though Harry knows he’s close.

“Don’t.”

“Why?” Harry moves to the side, propping his head on his hands as he watches Draco’s face twist.

“Not like that. Not tonight.” Draco turns, catching Harry in his gaze. He grips Harry’s hair hard enough to hurt and whispers in his ear. “Let me fuck you?”

Harry’s breath hitches, because it’s been a while. Before the war, they fucked and took one another whenever they could. After the war they fucked each other because they tried to forget, but that didn’t work out too well. They found ways to be careful with one another until the balance was just right – blowjobs and handjobs and long, lazy, rain-wet kisses on cold winter nights. 

“You’re sure?” Harry watches Draco breathe and relax, his slim chest rising and falling again.

“Are you?” Draco turns, his expression cool in the moonlight.

“Obviously.” Harry presses against Draco, hard and more desperate for him than he’s ever been.

It takes a moment. There’s the bottle in Harry’s bedside cabinet which is half empty and it makes Draco tease Harry mercilessly. There’s the slick fingers which push, push inside Harry’s body like they were always meant to be there. There’s Draco’s smirk which needs to be kissed away – hard and fast – when he reaches that spot that makes Harry cry out Draco’s name with embarrassing eagerness. It’s not as gentle as it might be. It’s rough and it’s desperate and every moment is perfect.

“Ready?” Draco nudges Harry over, pulling him close and kissing the back of his neck. “Ready, Potter?”

He said it the first time, words biting and full of false bravado. Now the _Potter’s_ softened by a lifetime of experience and stolen kisses which set the night on fire. 

“Are we doing this?” Harry turns, just enough to see Draco. “Pretending we’re seventeen again?”

Draco’s fingers slide down Harry’s spine until they’re back in his body again. “Do you want to?”

“Not really.” Harry’s words break apart as Draco’s fingers curl against the spot which makes his breath falter and his cock ache. “Fuck me, will you?”

And just like that, Draco pushes into Harry. He presses damp kisses to Harry’s neck and whispers Harry’s name against his skin. Harry clutches onto Draco’s hand and presses back against him, sliding his hand over his cock and bringing himself to the edge and back again until Draco’s murmuring his name so much it hurts and he spills over his hand with a ragged shout. 

“Christ, that was good.” Harry slows the movement of his hand, sensitive as Draco pushes into him until he comes and bites down on Harry’s shoulder. “Wasn’t it?”

Draco places another hot, damp kiss on Harry’s shoulder and rolls onto his back. He turns his head to the side after a moment of contemplating the ceiling. “Of course it was good. Wasn’t it always?”

“Yeah.” Harry pulls the duvet over them both and runs his fingers down Draco’s chest. If he presses lightly against Draco’s skin, he can feel the way his heart skips and flutters. There are better ways to read Draco than through his words. Harry’s known that for a long time. “I don’t want to stop doing that.”

Draco breathes in and out, his chest rising and falling under Harry’s palm. “You’re clearly not capable of sleeping by yourself, Potter. I think it’s only right you’re monitored on a regular basis.”

“Monitored?” Harry grins at Draco and pokes him in the side. “I should give you an Order of Merlin for your efforts.”

“First Class.” Draco arches an eyebrow at Harry. “Perhaps an award ceremony of some kind?”

“I’ll speak to Shacklebolt and see what I can do.” Harry yawns and shifts onto his side after giving Draco a final kiss. “Bloody awards. You’re so precious, Malfoy.”

“I just appreciate it when my work is acknowledged.” Draco curls close to Harry, his body warm against Harry’s hip. As Harry drifts off to sleep he hears Draco’s voice, low in his ear. “Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re not the only one who has bad dreams.”

“I know.” Harry turns and brushes Draco’s hair back from his forehead, looking into his eyes. Storm clouds on a summer evening. “I remember.”

Draco smiles and it’s not the kind of _everything is okay smile_ people have when there’s nothing left to resolve, but it’s the sort of _I’m going to sleep well tonight_ smile that Harry knows is the best they can hope for.

The rest, he hopes, will follow.

_~Fin~_


End file.
